Family
by How Clever of You
Summary: Spike examines his feelings for his team.  I still don't know exactly what this is.  Not-so-vague Sam/Jules and a little bit of Ed/Sophie. Not too much. Rating is a stretch, but I'm safe.


**Disclaimer: If I owned Flashpoint, Spike would have more screentime.**

**Note: I know that Spike was the rookie before Sam, but I wanted to have him come in before Jules and Lewis. So sorry if that annoys you. Just know that I realize this, and don't hate me please :) I also still have no idea exactly what this is and what it's about, so. I hope, despite that, you enjoy!**

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><p>He was never in love with her.<p>

Of course, though, on her first day, when she walked in, all curves and long hair, the scent of perfume following her, everyone at the table exchanged a look. Rolie and Lewis smirked in his direction, and Wordy raised an eyebrow. Ed sent them a _behave, children_ look and Greg pretended like he didn't know what was going on at the end of the other end of the table.

"Julianne Callaghan, first day," Boss said. "Welcome. We're gonna take it easy today. And, uh, I'm sure you remember everyone from the recruiting trials. So I won't, uh, embarrass you with any speeches."

He remembered every word of this introduction. He had heard it before, starting when he was welcomed onto the team, and later, when Lou was no longer part of their little family. He'd hear it again, when Raf joined them, and again, after Sam finally decided that the life of a policeman wasn't for him. (He heard that speech again, revised, from a suit-clad Greg, after Jules became a Braddock.)

Julianne Callaghan smiled at them, lip gloss and all. She looked sweet, and he telepathically made a bet with Lewis. Five minutes, and she's agree to go on a date with him. Twenty bucks. Of course, Lewis scoffed, because that's what he did.

(Spike lost the bet.)

There was a little bit of lust, at first. He didn't get out much, what with his demanding job and shot social life due to living at his parents' house. Sure, he'd put his hand on the thighs of many a girl when Lewis dragged him along to the bar, but he was never much of a partier (contrary to popular belief).

But then they started training, and Julianne Callaghan got him down on the mat with just a (painful) twist of the arm, and he realized he probably couldn't handle a girl like this. Especially if they were fighting about other girls or work or bills or baby names. (He always thought it would be funny to name his kid Picasso.)

It didn't take long to become indifferent to the smell of her shampoo or the color of her nails. She became a little sister, someone who needed protecting, but not too much of it. She was strong and he supported her every step of the way. He loved her, platonically. She was a part of his second family, a major contribution to the team. And he did love her. But not the way Sam did (and still does today).

Sam was a different story.

At first, Spike was a little iffy. It wasn't because Rolie left; they'd never really gotten along, anyway. Rolie liked the Lazios and hated Roma and that just couldn't be dealt with without hostility.

Sam was cocky and arrogant and annoying. Lewis said it reminded him of little Michelangelo Scarlatti in his early days as a Rookie. But it was deeper than that – he was charmed by Jules, of course. They all had been the first time they saw her. The sparkle in his eye wasn't going away, though, and he wasn't making the transition to being a brother, not like the rest of them. His heart was involved and he was going to regret it in the end. (And he did a little, if the permanently shattered shoulder he received when he threw himself between a bullet and Jules meant anything.)

After time passed, however, he became part of the team, a working organ in the ebb and flow of the SRU. He was responsible and insightful and was always there for everyone, even if their egos were too big to admit something was wrong. (Also, he didn't want to name his son something that he would end up regretting, like Picasso; Gregory, though borrowed, was well-deserved, especially when the kid went into the police force himself.)

Wordy was always sold short.

He was the most warm and welcoming of the team, even more than Jules. On his first day, when Spike was scared stiff and shaking in his boots (literally; they were about two sizes too big), Wordy was there with friendly words of encouragement and an easy smile. He insisted phrases like _Mister _and _Officer_ wouldn't make a family, and said, "All my friends call me Wordy. You should, too."

Ed always teased him about being the most sensitive. "It's the girls," he explained in the car once while they were going to pick up lunch. "The women in his house have softened him from a real man to a human-sized teddy bear. There's no hope for him; it's a wonder he's even still a cop."

(When he resigned due to Parkinson's several years later, Ed didn't remember this conversation. Spike did. He didn't bring it up, though, because he knew Ed was upset enough already. Also, his little girl softened him up, too, eventually, but he never got teased.)

Ed was like an eagle.

When Spike was younger, his favorite animals at the zoo were the birds. He would sit for as long as his mother allowed and just stare, taking in every detail of their feathers and beaks. Sure, the hawks were cool and everything, but the bald eagles were beautiful, majestic. They stood tall and proud, even though they were locked up in cages with no way to escape.

This was how he saw Ed for the first few weeks of being part of the Toronto SRU. He seemed a tortured soul, trapped behind the blue of his eyes and the bars of his mysterious past (which wasn't so scandalous after all, it turned out). Spike had had the wrong impression – sure, he was dignified and proud, but he wasn't locked up, no. He was exactly where he wanted to be, both professionally and personally.

He was a pillar, the foundation of the team. He kept his cool when things got tough, and kept pushing even when he was worn out. He had a strong endurance and sharp senses. This was what got him democratically elected team leader (which enabled him to make autocratic decisions, he reminded them often). This was also why it terrified Spike so much when he first saw Ed just break down and cry.

He made it through, though, and Spike was proud to be invited to his and Sophie's fiftieth anniversary party, where he sat with the broken pieces of their team, a young grandchild (maybe Jules') perched on one knee.

Sergeant Gregory Parker was more of a father than anything.

He was a terrible commander. He took stupid risks and led horrible raids, but he was, somehow, always successful in whatever he did. He ran on luck and the trust of his team. He strived on love and family, something his personal life lacked for a long time. (Dean moved in with him for a while after he graduated high school, though, and the two became close. When he started applying to colleges, he took the police academy into serious consideration. Despite this, he ended up becoming a businessman and opening a coffee shop in the center of town. Greg didn't care either way.)

Boss was pushy, but he was always there, no matter what, as a support system. He teased and joked and turned the team into a family rather than a unit. This caused a lot of problems, but it was nothing they couldn't work through together.

It was a shame to see him go, though, but it was in due time. The time had long passed since he should have retired, but he refused to. That is, until a carefully choreographed drug bust ended up with a bullet in Sam's shoulder and severe damage to the truck Spike had been in. (He was okay, though, save for a few harmless scratches. This, he found out for himself, gave him access to the pity card when out on the town.) It was no surprise when Ed Lane was named Sergeant.

Death skirted the shadows of Greg's house for a long time. The SRU was his life and, like Daniel Rangford, there wasn't much left after he lost that. But he had a family, then, a real, blood family, and he died happy, the voices and laughter of his grandchildren still ringing in his mind.

Lewis Young was possibly the best friend he could have ever asked for, hands down.

They met, and shared a room, at the police academy. Lewis was slightly older, two years his senior, but it didn't show. They became brothers, joined at the hip. If they were separated, panic and death rumors spread through the student body like wildfire. (Spike faked his death, once, just to mess with people. He got three weeks of hardcore work duty and learned his lesson.)

Lewis joined the team shortly after Spike. It was cool, at first, working side-by-side with his best friend. And then Lewis got shot in the foot in a hostage situation gone wrong and he finally understood why this was such a difficult job. Your teammates were an extension of yourself, and when they got hurt, you got hurt. Emotions were attached and nerve ends exposed, and any person with a gun or a knife could aggravate the sensitive bonds between the seven of them.

It took a few years to get used to, but then it was alright. They joked around and messed with their newfound brothers and were the dynamic duo of Team One, trailing mischief and laughter everywhere they went.

The land mine affected Spike in the worst way possible. Losing a team member to death was like losing a piece of yourself. But losing Lew? It was more like losing a vital organ. His body was shocked to the core, and it took years to repair itself (and he's still not whole today, not completely).

The team was like an organ system, all working together to keep the oxygen flowing and the blood pumping. They all lost themselves along the way, at least once, but the others were there to make sure the way back home was found. They were seamless, yet broken, connected by an unspoken bond of comradeship and trust. Their lives were so fragile, but somehow, they beat together as one heart, a single, unified unit.

Being part of the team was more than being just a section of a group. Being part of Team One was being part of a family.


End file.
